All Fall Down
by legallyblained
Summary: Kurt deals with the aftermath of Blaine's suicide attemmpt. Contains distressing themes.


As he wrapped himself around his boyfriend, Kurt tried not to shake. Blaine had only just got to sleep, and Kurt didn't want to wake him up with any noise or movement. It was like he was looking after an animal, something tiny and vulnerable, and he had to be careful not to spook him. Because he couldn't bear for Blaine to run away. He needed to be near him constantly, to watch over him, to make sure nothing could hurt him. Especially himself.

He remembered seeing that face in the hospital. He could still see Blaine slumped in a chair, staring out of the window. It was as if he was still there, kneeling at Blaine's side, looking up into his eyes. His face wasn't even sad; it was just empty. He didn't even blink. Kurt had no idea what to do. He wanted to hold his hands, but there were bandages on his wrists. What if he hurt him even more? He felt like he couldn't talk about it. If he could keep Blaine's mind off it for long enough, maybe he would forget, and maybe he could be happy again.

He reached up and touched Blaine's cheek with the back of his fingers. As he didn't flinch away, Kurt took it as a sign that this was allowed. He never thought he'd be this scared to touch Blaine, but he'd never seen him like this before. Somehow he'd always seemed so much bigger than he was: the way he smiled about everything, stood up for what he believed in, always found something to be excited about. It elevated him. Kurt loved having that energy around him all the time. And now he was faced with this. Blaine seemed so small. He looked older, greyer, broken. Kurt moved his hand up, cupping Blaine's face. He didn't exactly nuzzle into it, but he closed his eyes, allowing his head to drop forward slightly. His lips became thin as he clenched his mouth shut, his brow furrowed, and he let out a quiet, shaky breath. He didn't cry. He barely made a sound. It was all Kurt could manage not to burst into sobs, because he knew he had to be stronger than that. He couldn't fall apart now. Because Blaine already had.

Kurt tried to breathe slowly and quietly. He pressed every inch of himself against Blaine. He was so scared of separation from him. He just had to stay this close to him, then nothing bad could happen. He noticed Blaine's hands twitching while he slept. His fingers were brushing against the bandages on his wrists again, and he was whimpering. Dreaming again. Kurt gently placed a hand in between Blaine's, kissing his hair in an attempt to calm him down, carefully avoiding the patch where his hair was replaced by stitches. He quietened down. His hands stopped moving. His head leaned back into Kurt ever so slightly. But his expression didn't change. His face was still tense and stiff, like he was waiting for something to go wrong. Kurt wanted to tell him nothing would go wrong now, not while he was there. But he'd promised that before, and he couldn't lie to him again.

He remembered sitting in the ambulance when Blaine was unconscious. The paramedics didn't have time to be polite and pulled Kurt away so they could work. They were shouting things Kurt didn't understand. He froze as he sat in the corner, staring at Blaine's face. He'd seen too many faces like that before. He'd seen his mother like that. And then his dad. Still. Silent. Expressionless. Blaine looked like he was already dead. The most heartbreaking thing was that he'd looked like this for days: no colour in his cheeks apart from bruises and the cut on his lip, no hint of happiness playing around his face like before. Why couldn't he just jump up and sing something, or make some awkward speech about things getting better? Why wasn't this the other way around? It was supposed to be him feeling awful and Blaine making everything OK; that was how it worked, not like this. Kurt felt guilty for thinking it, but he couldn't help it. This was all wrong.

When they got to the hospital, he wasn't allowed in the room. All he could do was stand at the door watching through the window as Blaine was manhandled and stitched back together, and amongst the transfusions and the shouting and the red everywhere, Kurt's eyes stayed on Blaine's face, still cold and blank. He would have given anything right then to see him smile; he stared at him, willing him to wake up, but nothing. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Burt standing in front of him, lips parted slightly as he tried to think of something to say. They closed. The two men knew no words could help. For once, there was nothing Burt could do.

"Dad... He..." Both of them were shaking. Kurt suddenly collapsed against his father, who caught him in a tight hug. Kurt was sobbing, and Burt tried to hold it together for him, even though his heart was breaking. He sniffed and as they Kurt started dropping towards the floor, he steered him toward the seats next to the door. At the very least he could make sure the hospital staff had clear access to the room. It was the only thing he could do to help. He pulled Kurt into him as they sat down, letting his own single tear roll onto his son's head.

"I... I don't know what to do. What if they can't... Dad-" He clutched to his dad's soft flannel shirt with one hand and held his hand with the other. Burt squeezed it back. It was their thing, and it was supposed to help, but somehow it only made things worse. Kurt didn't say anything, just because he couldn't speak, but this wasn't the hand he was supposed to be holding. That hand was covered in blood, and in Kurt's warped memory it was practically falling off his arm. Just hanging there. Even if he could be in there holding it, it wouldn't squeeze back. It might never respond again.

Kurt sniffed, burying his face in Blaine's hair to wipe away his tears. Blaine jumped, still half asleep, inhaling sharply.

"Kurt! Kurt? Kurt, where are you?", he slurred, panicking and reaching for him, his breathing heavy as he looked for Kurt without noticing him right there. His eyes were wide. Kurt hushed him, stroking his arms and face.

"It's OK, Blaine, I'm here; I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here." Kurt tried to sound calm and squash the feeling of desperation, the tightness in his stomach. It didn't go away, but as he kept reassuring Blaine, he slowly laid his head back on the pillow, and drifted back to sleep. Kurt kept rocking slightly back and forth, long after Blaine was asleep again. He had to keep everything as stable as possible. For Blaine. For himself. It didn't matter, as long as he could control this moment. He controlled his breathing, his movements, everything right here, just to make up for the chaos everywhere else.

"I missed you today, Blaine. We all did. It's not the same without you." Kurt tried to hold Blaine's hand, but he pulled it away and looked at the floor.

"Right. I'm sure Finn was devastated. It's not like I would have been a lot of fun like this." He pointed to his face. His eye seemed whiter than usual, surrounded by a dark purple bruise, and his lip was still split and swollen. A tear fell down Blaine's cheek, but Kurt didn't dare wipe it away for fear of pressing against a bruise. He grabbed his hand instead.

"They don't hate you, Blaine. They're just jealous of you-"

"Of what? Of this? Of a cracked rib, of the patch of hair they shaved off they could put nine stitches in the back of my head?" Even though he was trying to argue, trying to show some rage, he still had no conviction. He couldn't even summon up the strength to be angry.

"Of your talent... Of your spirit... Blaine, look at me." Blaine didn't even lift his head up properly, just enough to make eye contact with Kurt. "I thought nothing could break you. They won't act all jealous if you let me tell them." Blaine glared at him. "You've still got me, remember?" He struggled to keep his voice quiet and calm. This was so frustrating. He felt helpless. He was trying to comfort someone who didn't want to be comforted. Trying to save someone who seemed content just falling into nothingness.

"I've got you now. _She_ gets back in ten minutes, and you'll be gone by the time she gets here."

"I don't have to leave, Blaine. I don't _want _to leave. You said you couldn't-"

And I meant it. I can't. You can't stay. Soon they'll both be home, and it'll be just like any other night." Blaine stopped. He stared at Kurt for a second, then straight ahead. His head tilted slightly to one side. He looked like some kind of realisation was dawning. His back straightened. He took a deep breath. "You know what? I need to stop complaining. It's not fair on you."

"Blaine, it's OK to feel like this, I know you're hurt-"

"Kurt, this time it's your turn to look at me. Look into my eyes. I'm fine. I promise I'll be in school tomorrow. But for now, you should go." Kurt looked at Blaine. His face had changed. He was smiling, but his eyes still seemed wrong somehow. He didn't look miserable. Just calm. Relieved, even.

"Blaine, stop it. I know you're not '_fine_'. Couldn't you come back to mine? Tell them you're studying, or rehearsing, anything."

"They'll never buy it. Anyway, I know you've got stuff to do-"

"Blaine. I don't. Care. What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

"Seriously, nothing is going on. You've helped, that's all." He stood up, and Kurt joined him instantly, still suspicious. "But you know it's time." Kurt pulled his head back, eyes widening. "Time for you to go, silly." Blaine gave him a look as if he was crazy, and rolled his eyes. "Kurt, have I ever lied to you?" Kurt had to admit he hadn't, but he kept frowning. Blaine laid his hands on Kurt's arms, the epitome of calm. "Honestly, thanks for coming. I love you for worrying about me. But you don't have to any more." He kissed him on the cheek. Something was still wrong. His eyes weren't smiling. He didn't linger as he normally did with every single kiss.

"Blaine-" Kurt laid a hand on his cheek, only for him to wince, and force a laugh when Kurt brushed against his black eye. Blaine took his hand and walked him to the door.

"No, Kurt. I can't handle them seeing you here, OK? Not yet."

Blaine had him there. The last thing he wanted to do was make things worse. With a deep breath, he relented, kissing Blaine on his temple, one of the few parts of his head that wasn't damaged, even though he seemed broken all over. Blaine gave him that unconvincing smile again, but he didn't have time to argue. He gave his hand a final squeeze, and walked towards the car. He watched the door close from his safe distance, and sat for a moment. He'd timed it perfectly, as less than five minutes later, the sleek black convertible belonging to Blaine's step-mother rolled up and swung into the driveway. He ducked behind the steering wheel, hoping she hadn't noticed the same empty car outside the house every other day for months.

Kurt couldn't deny that she was gorgeous. Something of a cliché, but still. Platinum blonde, poker-straight hair, long legs, slim waist, and a form-fitting, light grey suit that showed it off perfectly. She strutted to the house, her shoes clicking as she walked. Kurt still couldn't start the car. His vision was too blurred to drive anywhere. He wanted nothing more than to push her out of the way and run back to Blaine, to make sure he was alright, but he kept still, his hands frozen on the wheel, staring at the woman stopping him from being with his boyfriend. She turned the key in the door and strolled in, clueless about the boy staring at her, silently fuming. He knew she wasn't entirely to blame, his father was just as bad, but she was here now. And now, Blaine needed him, he knew it.

He heard a scream. And another. And shouting, and banging. Before he could think about it, he jumped out of the car and tore across the lawn to the house. He ran up the stairs to where the screaming was coming from, across the landing, and pushed past the flailing woman into the bathroom. He froze as soon as he got to the door. His mind was racing. There was blood everywhere. Blood and Blaine. He was on the floor, unconscious, his head leaning against the bath. The angle looked awkward, like his neck was broken, and he wanted to move him in case it was hurting him. He couldn't believe this was happening again. He'd already seen so much of Blaine's blood spilt this week. He kept whispering "Blaine, no..." over and over, as he rushed to his side and grabbed his hands, only to end up covered in blood. It just kept pouring from his wrists, all over the floor, all over both of them. Kurt was still trying to catch his breath when he was pulled away from Blaine. He realised he'd been ignoring screams all this time.

"Who the hell are you? Get out of my house! Get off him! What's wrong with-"

Kurt looked her in the eyes. She stopped screaming.

"Mrs Anderson. Call an ambulance. Now." She looked at the blood- and tear-soaked boy in front of her. She knew who he was. She'd never heard his name, but she knew that this was what Alexander had been scared of for so long. She looked into Kurt's eyes; they were so full of pain and fear but they still had some kind of authority. He wasn't scary. He wasn't a monster, or an abomination. He was just a boy in love, terrified of losing Blaine. She blinked hard and pulled out her phone.

"Yes, ambulance. My son, my step-son, he's hurt. I think he's tried to kill himself, there's blood- just come, please." She faded into the background as she told them their address. Kurt, on his knees, turned back to Blaine. He heaved him up by the shoulders, as if he was trying to hug him back to life. He caught his head as it flopped backwards, cradling him, rocking him gently, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Please, Blaine, please, wake up. You can't do this to me. I can't, Blaine-"

The tall blonde knelt on the other side of Blaine, unsure of what to do. She looked at Blaine, pale underneath the bruises, his eyes closed, and then she looked up at the boy holding him. She could see his whole world crumbling around him. She laid a hand on his forearm. She knew it wouldn't help, but she had to do something.

"I'm Stephanie." Her voice cracked. Kurt didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on the weak boy in his arms, and stroked his face, trying to find some trace of Blaine in there. But no matter how hard he searched, he got nothing.

"Kurt. I'm Blaine's... Blaine's-"

"I know. It's OK." She took a deep breath in. "They're on their way." Kurt looked at her for a second, with nothing so much gratitude in his eyes she could have wept, but she decided to keep it together, for him. She felt bad admitting it, even if only to herself, but this boy she'd never met cared more about Blaine that she did. She stroked Kurt's hair, just because she didn't know what else to do. "I think you should go with him. I'll wait for his father. He needs to hear this from me." Kurt bent his head down to feel Blaine's hair against his cheek, his eyes closed. He couldn't bear to open them. He didn't want to look at the mess in front of him, even though it was the only image in his mind. Those deep gashes in Blaine's wrists, and the blood pouring out of them, and his skin so pale, and the bruises still so dark, and the calm look he'd had on his face before, like he had an answer. This was his answer. The pain from those wrists couldn't have compared to the pain he must have been feeling to want to do this. And Kurt had just left. He let it happen. He held him like he should have held him before, vowing never to let go again.

"Please, Blaine. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Please."

It wasn't long before the ambulance arrived. They could hear the sirens from a mile away. Men stormed into the house, pulling Blaine onto a stretcher, hauling him out to the ambulance. Kurt wanted them to slow down and realise how fragile he was, that their pushing and pulling would tear him apart, but he kept quiet. He wanted to cling to him, but he stayed clear, letting them do their job. Stephanie gave his shoulder a squeeze. He laid his hand on hers, surprised at how glad he was to have her there. He glanced at her before he climbed into the ambulance. She nodded at him, as if to say 'Yes, I'm sure. Go.', and another tear rolled down his cheek as he took a breath and stepped in.

The door opened slightly. The noise made Blaine flinch, but he didn't wake up. He instinctively clutched a little more tightly at Kurt's hand. It was a reflex; Kurt was what he always grabbed onto when he was scared, awake or not. Kurt looked up at Burt in the doorway and tried to smile. Burt tilted his head down so that he was looking up at Kurt, and the forced smile dropped. He couldn't pull that with his dad.

"I thought I heard something, so-"

"It's fine. He was having a bad dream, but it's over now." Both of their faces fell when they realised that wasn't true. It was only just beginning. Burt nodded anyway.

"You know I'm just upstairs, if there's anything-"

Kurt nodded.

"Thanks, Dad. I know." As the door closed again, leaving Kurt and Blaine in darkness, Kurt closed his eyes to try and block out the memories but they kept seeping in through the cracks. Again, all he could see and feel was pain.

Blaine was quiet. Kurt knew he'd been feeling lousy, with Finn getting on at him, and still being scared to come out to his dad, but the last couple of weeks it had been getting worse. He'd lost the will to fight it. He used to bounce back and jump into a song and everything would be fine, but lately... Kurt tried to shake it out of his mind. He was probably imagining things. It wouldn't be the first time he'd read too much into Blaine's behaviour. If he felt bad, he'd say something. He stroked his hand with his thumb, their fingers intertwined as they walked home. Normally they'd drive, but he knew how much Blaine loved Autumn. He thought a long walk home through the park would be the perfect remedy for him. He smiled at him encouragingly, but all he got back was a weak glance, the corners of his mouth turned up for a second, before letting his eyes fall straight back to the ground. Kurt tried again.

"Isn't it beautiful? I love all these colours; it's so romantic." Blaine nodded silently. "Blaine, I know the last couple of weeks haven't been easy. But soon the musical will be over, and Finn will get his girlfriend back from rehearsals and he won't be so frustrated. It's awful that he's taking it out on you, but I'll talk to him." No response. "Is it your dad? Has he been giving you a hard time?"

"Nothing new. I just... I don't know. I think I'm just tired. It's all been a bit much lately. Don't worry." Kurt nudged him gently.

"I can't help it. It's only because I love you. You don't have to close yourself off like this."

"Yeah, I know; you're right." Blaine forced a smile. He kissed Kurt on the cheek. They stopped walking, and Kurt pulled him into a hug. They stood in the middle of a small cluster of trees, holding each other, their foreheads resting against each other as leaves floated down around them. They heard a rustling behind them. Kurt flicked his head around, but dismissed it. They were alone, he was sure of it.

He was wrong.

They came out of nowhere. Six boys, men, he couldn't be sure, but before he could do anything, Blaine had been pushed into a tree and fallen to the ground. Kurt tried to run to help him up, but he had been pinned against another tree.

"Aw, you wanna go help your boyfriend? Why can't he fight for himself? Oh right, you fucking fairies can't do anything by yourselves."

"What? I don't even know you! Leave him alone!" Kurt struggled, but they were too strong. There was one on each of his arms as well as the oaf in front of him, and three more were by Blaine, kicking him repeatedly.

"Well if he was a real man, maybe he'd fight back. Guess you fags you don't how to do anything right. Except maybe suck dick. Hey boys, maybe he wants to go suck him better?"

"Get off of him!" Kurt kept struggling, but it was no good. He couldn't see Blaine. He was more worried that he couldn't hear him. He wasn't even shouting. No cry of pain, nothing. Kurt craned his neck to see him.

"Wow, you miss him already? It must be _love_! Isn't that cute!" His face was an inch away from Kurt's now. "You make me sick. What would God say if he saw you?"

"You really think _God_ would want you to do this? Blaine! Blaine, say something!"

"Shit." One of the boys crowded around Blaine finally chimed in. "Shit, man, look at that blood!"

"Well the dirty fag fucking deserves it-"

"No, look! He must have hit his head or something... Fuck. We need to get out of here." Kurt's eyes widened with terror, as he was released from the boy's grip. He fell at Blaine's side and grabbed his phone from his pocket, dialling 911.

"Well..." The bully shifted from one foot to the other. "You had this coming. Fucker." They all ran away, as the leaves around Blaine's head turned from orange to red. Kurt held his hand, scared to move his head, as he fumbled with his phone. As soon as he'd called them, he tried to talk to Blaine." Please talk to me. Wake up. I'll do anything, they've gone now, it's going to be OK, I've got you. He started to miss the weak, forced responses; they were better than no response at all.

The next couple of hours were a blur. There was bleeding, shouting, rushing, sirens, Blaine's pale body covered in bruises and cuts, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a chair next to Blaine's hospital bed. He was awake already, staring at Kurt. He smiled a little when he saw him, but he'd obviously been crying. Kurt reached forward and took his hand, kissing it softly.

"Kurt." he looked into Kurt's eyes, his own filled with tears that started to trickle across his face. Kurt looked up at him.

"Yeah?" he asked gently.

"Kurt... Why? I didn't even know those guys, and they just... Like I was nothing. There was so much hate in their eyes, and... I didn't even know them." His voice was cracking, and Kurt tried to stop him talking so he could get some rest, but he kept going. "I actually let myself think it was over. That things were better. But now I'm here, and my head hurts, and everything hurts, and I don't know what to do, and I just want you to take me home, back to yours, and I want to stay there with you, but I guess soon Dad will get here and you'll have to go. And when he's here everything will hurt more, because it'll be my fault. Kurt, I can't do it." He was sobbing now. "Look at me. People will ask what happened and if I have to tell them, I, oh God-"

Kurt wanted to make it all better. He wanted to just hold him and love him and make everything else go away, but he looked so fragile that touching him could shatter him. He'd always thought Blaine was the strong one, and here he was, falling apart. He just lay there on his side, clinging to Kurt's hand as if it the only thing keeping him in one piece, while tears streamed onto his pillow. He wasn't even talking any more. He just kept crying, his eyes closed like he never wanted them to open. And Kurt just sat there. Holding his hands. Because if he tried to do any more he'd fall apart too.

As Kurt kept remembering it all, over and over, he let his tears fall straight into Blaine's hair. Closing his eyes didn't help. He remembered the blood and the tears and the pain no matter what he did. But mostly he just felt that helplessness again. He saw himself doing nothing and got so angry, and he saw this broken Blaine and wanted to put him back together, but didn't know how. He couldn't stop trembling, holding Blaine tighter and tighter. Blaine, finally completely asleep, nuzzled into him. For the moment, right now, he was back together. He was Blaine. Kurt just had to keep holding him until these peaceful moments outnumbered the miserable ones. Then maybe he could find the pieces of _his _Blaine, the one who had made him happy so many times, and just maybe they would come back together on their own.

Tonight, all he could do was hold him. That's all he ever could have done.


End file.
